Angel Hunting
by lanternofoa
Summary: The Winchesters are hunting down something they've never faced before: The Weeping Angels. This story is my interpretation of how the Winchesters come into contact with creatures from Doctor Who, as well as their first meetings with both The Doctor, and Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

Colin was getting impatient. His wife Helena should have been home by now, like she said she would be. Once again, she was out with her friends partying, coming home later and later each time. Colin wouldn't have minded if it were every once in a while, but these escapades were becoming much too frequent for his taste. He was never one for the party crowd, always preferring quieter company. In fact, he and his wife were such polar opposites in terms of personality he wondered sometimes how she had even fallen for him. He had thought marriage would make her less prone to nights of debauchery, but here they were five months later and she was still acting like the girl he had met in college.

Pacing through the kitchen, Colin looked out through the window. His eyes stopped on that stupid statue his wife had gotten a couple of days ago. There was yet another reason for his frustrations with her. Despite being behind on payments for the house and her car, she had gone and bought a decorative statue for their yard. The fact that really angered him about it was that she hadn't even told him about it. After coming home two days ago he found it in the yard, a winged angel statue with its hands covering its eyes. He had asked his wife where on earth she had gotten it, and she flat out refused to acknowledge that she had even bought it. He knew she had though. He checked their bank account that same night and found $200 missing. $200 on a crummy statue! And she was still refusing to admit to buying it.

Colin ran his hands through his hair and grabbed the phone. He punched in Helena's number. It went straight to voice mail. He tried to control his anger, but couldn't help letting it seep into his words, "Listen Helena, I'm getting sick and tired of the crap you keep pulling. Coming home completely wasted at three in the morning, missing work because of your hangovers, buying expensive statues that we can't afford right now since we need to be paying off the rest of our debts. When we do talk you're all moody and agitated. You need to stop acting like the teenager you were when we met, and start acting like the adult you are. If this keeps up, I have no idea what I'm going to do. Just get home now."

Colin tossed the phone onto the counter and made his way to the fridge for a beer. Taking a sip, he noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. He walked back over to the window and peered out. He couldn't place what was so odd about it until the thought crossed his mind, "The statue! It's gone!"

Looking around he spotted it by the door. He looked down at his beer. Was he seeing things? He glanced back outside and sure enough, the statue was definitely by the door now when before it was in the garden. Colin set the beer down on the counter and went to the door. Upon opening it, he found himself face to face with the statue. But that wasn't the oddest thing. Its hands weren't over its eyes now. It stood there in the doorway staring at him. He stared back at it and couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of it. Feeling too tired to deal with it he shut the door and grabbed his beer back up off the counter. A few sips later and the lights started to flicker.

"Great, that's just one more thing I need. Faulty power lines," Colin muttered, and started to walk towards the living room. He froze. The door was open again, and there was the angel still staring at him. To make matters worse, he noticed something now that he thought he must not have noticed before. The angel statue was smiling. Not in a happy warm feeling smile, this smile sent shivers down his spine and made him break into a cold sweat.

"This has to be a prank," he said to himself, "Yes; a dumb prank by one of the guys, or Helena thinks she's having fun with me. Alright! That's enough! You got me! Now cut it out, I've had enough stress for one night, thank you very much."

No one came out though. Nobody was laughing at their marvelous joke. No one was smiling, except for the angel statue. The lights flickered again, sending the room into darkness. When the lights flicked back on, the statue was gone. Colin stood blank faced not believing his eyes. The doorway was now empty, the statue nowhere in sight. Unease settled over Colin. He wheeled around and ran into the living room, only to stop dead in his tracks. The statue was in the center of the room, still flashing that terrifying smile at him. Colin couldn't move, couldn't even blink. He stood there rooted with fear. Slowly he started backing up towards the stairs. He inched his way up them, not daring to take his eyes off the statue. He made it most of the way up when he tripped backwards over the final step. He jumped up and let out a shout. The statue was at the foot of the stairs looking up at him.

Now scared out of his wits he ran the rest of the way to his and Helena's bedroom, the lights flickering off and on. As he closed the door to the room he saw the statue inches away, the smile now replaced with a snarling fanged mouth. He slammed the door shut in its face then proceeded to block the door with whatever he could move in front of it. He ran over to the bedroom window and contemplated whether or not it would hurt to jump from this height when the lights started flickering again. He started to open the window when the power went out completely. The room stayed dark for a second, and then the lights popped back on.

Colin knew he was in trouble the moment light returned. His makeshift barricade was pushed aside, the door was wide open, and there was the statue, its monstrous face contorted and ravenous looking. As the lights flickered once more Colin began crying. This was it; he had nowhere left to run. He closed his eyes and felt a hand grab him by the neck and the next thing he knew everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

"So why exactly is this place worth checking out Sammy?" asked Dean as he waited in the diner booth for the order he had just placed to come out.

"Well, over the past few weeks disappearances have been happening all around the town," Sam replied, "Nobody knows what happened to them, no evidence of foul play in any of the disappearances, no leads whatsoever."

"And what makes you think this is our line of work? Isn't this something for local police to handle?" Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head, "No, I definitely think something's up. Take a look at the pictures of the people that went missing." Sam placed a set of photographs on the table.

Dean flipped through the photos, "Yikes, this dude looks like he could swallow a friggin' bus," Dean got to the next photo, "Well hello there," he flashed a photo of girl who clearly was posing for a model shot at Sam, "I can see why this needs investigating."

Sam rolled his eyes, "That's not the reason why I think this is our line of work Dean. Take a look at these," Sam put a stack of newspaper articles in front of Dean, "Notice anything familiar?"

"Oh I sure do," said Dean looking at the first clipping, "Miss Victoria's Secret made the front page I see."

"Take a look at the date," said Sam.

Dean checked the date at the top of the newspaper, "Wait a minute, that can't be right. This is from 80 years ago Sam."

"Exactly," said Sam.

"How the hell is she in this newspaper when she can only be, what age is she?" A confused Dean asked.

"25 next month according to her birth date," Sam answered.

Dean scanned the other news articles. Each one showed pictures of the people that had gone missing, but each article was written years before the missing people had been born, "Ok, this may possibly be our kind of case."

* * *

The Impala rolled up in front of the two story house on Wickham Drive. Sam and Dean stepped out of the car both in suits and walked up to the front door. Dean knocked. A woman who looked as if she had just been crying her eyes out answered the door.

"Who are you?" she asked rubbing her red eyes.

"Are you Helena Davis?" asked Dean

"Yes," she answered warily.

Sam and Dean held up FBI badges, "I'm Agent Frey, this is Agent Henley," continued Dean, "We're here to talk to you about your missing husband."

"I don't understand," said Helena, "I already talked to the police yesterday."

"We're doing a follow up on their report," said Sam.

"Did you notice anything strange at all the night your husband went missing?" asked Dean.

"Not really, no," said Helena, "I came back rather late that night. I had a few drinks so I didn't even notice that Colin was missing until the next morning. I got out of bed and noticed he wasn't there, so I figured I must have slept in and he had gone to work for the day. Then I remembered he was supposed to have that morning off so I started looking around the house for him."

"Was there any sign that something might have happened while you were out that night?" asked Sam.

"Not that I could tell," replied Helena, "Although, I did find a half finished beer on the counter in the morning. A bunch of furniture was piled next to our bedroom door too. Our desk was moved right next to it, and so was the dresser, right beside it. He must have been rearranging the room or something."

Sam pondered for a second, "Mrs. Davis, did your husband have any enemies that might have wanted to hurt him?"

"Goodness no," she said, "Colin always kept to himself. Didn't speak to very many people actually. He doesn't even keep in contact with any of his old college buddies. He invites a couple of co workers over from time to time, but he's not really close to anyone apart from me."

"And what about his home life?" asked Sam, "Did you two ever have any problems? Anything that might have caused him to leave without saying anything?"

"Our marriage was just fine, if you're trying to imply anything," said an offended Helena, "I mean, we may have had our differences from time to time, but he wouldn't leave me just for that."

"What kind of differences?" asked Dean

"Well, financial problems, that sort of thing," said Helena, "We're not quite caught up on payments for this and that, and well, I recently took some money out to help with a party a friend of mine was hosting. I meant to put whatever I took out back as soon as I made some more cash before Colin could notice anything, but he found out after checking our bank account. I couldn't bear to tell him I had been using the money for alcohol, but he assumed that I had spent it on some statue that someone put in our yard."

"Statue?" asked Sam

"Yes," said Helena, "One day I found a statue in our garden. Someone must have put it there. I don't know why. I kind of liked it, but Colin couldn't stand it. On top of that, he thought I had bought it and was lying about it too. He didn't believe me that someone else had put it there."

"Do you mind if we take a look around the house?" asked Dean.

"Go right ahead," said Helena, "but I don't know what you expect to find, the officers from yesterday already checked the house."

Sam proceeded to the kitchen while Dean went up the stairs to check on the bedroom. Pulling out his EMF detector, Sam began looking for anything suspicious. No reactions came from anywhere. He methodically searched every inch of the kitchen, and then moved on to the living room, and then the dining room. He couldn't find any sign of supernatural activity whatsoever. Finally he decided to go see if Dean had found anything.

Upstairs Dean was examining the furniture Helena hadn't even bothered moving back to their original spots, "This look like a barricade for the door to you?" asked Dean.

"Sure does," said Sam, "Find anything up here?"

"Nothing," said Dean, "No traces of sulfur, no hex bags, no EMF. I have no clue what we're dealing with here."

Sam checked the window for signs of entry, "Think anything could have gotten through the window?"

"Already checked it," said Dean, "Nothing there either. Just looks out over the garden."

Sam looked out and sure enough, nothing suggesting something had come in through the window, just a garden down below with an angel statue holding its hands over its eyes.

"C'mon," said Dean, "Let's check out some of the other houses."

* * *

"I don't know Sammy, maybe these really are normal disappearances," said Dean as he bit into a piece of pie at their hotel room, "Dad's journal says that everything it might be would leave some kind of trace, and we found nothing at any of the places we checked."

"What about all those newspaper articles Dean?" asked Sam.

"I don't know. Really odd coincidences?" said Dean, "Have you ever heard of something that can make a person appear back in…"

Sam looked confused, "What? Dean?"

"Son of a Bitch," said Dean, "Remember when Cas sent me back to 1973?"

"You thinking this might be a rogue angel?" asked Sam.

"I wouldn't put it past them," said Dean, "Who knows what they're up to now. Cas said that most of Heaven was in anarchy now that we stopped the apocalypse right?"

"Maybe we should ask him," said Sam.

Dean nodded, "Cas, this is kind of important. We're a little stumped right now and need your help."

From behind them they heard the sound of flapping wings. Sam and Dean turned to see Castiel standing in their hotel room, "Sam, Dean," he said.

"Cas," said Dean, "We think we might have found some angel zapping people back in time. It looks like he's hitting this town pretty hard."

Cas concentrated then said, "No, it's not an Angel. There are some distinct time distortions around this town as you say, but none of my race is causing these distortions. I'm afraid you've got something else on your hands."

"Dammit!" shouted Dean, "Well what could it be then? I mean, something's going all Doc Brown on us, but what?"

"This sounds like something new," said Sam, "Something we haven't encountered before. Maybe something no other hunter has ever encountered before."

"How are we supposed to track it or find out its next target?" asked Dean.

"If I may," said Castiel, "I should be able to get you someone who can help you out."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"Well, I've been trying to 'get into your culture' more and I started this trendy thing called blogging," said Castiel, "In one that I've enjoyed reading, there's a man who says he can solve anything, or find anyone. He says he some kind of consulting detective."

"Great," said Dean, "We're turning to the kooks on the internet now. Wait a minute Cas, where did you even get a computer from?"

"I wanted to find out what else happened to the pizza man," said Cas, "So I 'borrowed' one from a store. It's quite interesting what happens too. See after he's done at the lady's house he-

"Ok, this is approaching the realm of too much information," Dean cut Castiel off, "Just show us where to find this guy Cas."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and Dean found themselves standing in the middle of the living room of an apartment. It was cluttered with a mish mash of all sorts of objects. A microscope sat on top of a table with loose leaves of paper scattered all over it. Oddly there were bullet holes in the wall made in the shape of a frowning sad face. Underneath the bullet-hole face was a faded green couch that looked as though it was slept in nightly. In the corner sat a man with dark black hair playing a violin. He seemed entirely oblivious to the two men who had just appeared out of nowhere.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then looked at Castiel.

"That's him there," said Castiel.

Sam cleared his throat and began to speak, "Um, excuse me-"

"I'm terribly busy right now. I have a case that's been vexing me, and you're interrupting my train of thought." The man said and continued playing a melancholy tune on the violin.

"We were just wondering," continued Sam, "We heard that you can solve any case, any mystery, and well, we have one that stumps even us."

"Yes, because you look quite the geniuses yourselves," remarked the man sarcastically.

Dean stepped forward, "Look, we have a group of people going missing all over town, no trace of what's taking them, nothing leaving any known traces behind, and zero leads. Can you find evidence of what's happening or can you not?" he asked.

"Of course I can, though I don't see why I should," the man said, "People go missing every day, what concern is it to me? Your case hardly seems more fascinating than the one I've got right now."

"That's what you care about?" asked Dean, "how 'fascinating' the case is?"

"That's why I do what I do. There's no point in taking the boring cases. I need something a little more challenging," the man said and began violently strumming the violin strings, not playing any song in particular, just generating noise.

Great, that's just great," Dean said, "While you're sitting here thinking about your next great case, we're no closer to finding out what's grabbing people and popping them back 80 years into the past."

The man stopped strumming the bow over the violin strings, "What did you say?"

"I said that whatever is doing this, they're not only snatching them up, but they're sending them back into the past," said Dean.

Sam and Dean went over everything with the man. They explained how they hunted creatures of the supernatural, saving people wherever they could, how they had been doing this for years, like a family business. They told him about the recent disappearances, the newspaper articles from the past with the newly missing persons, and that they couldn't find any evidence of what was taking them, even after years of hunting. Finally, they told him about how Castiel was an angel and that he led them here to a man who said he could solve anything and find evidence where no one else could.

"Remarkable," said the man, "I've never come across something like this before. You two honestly believe that supernatural forces are at work in the universe, and that one of the 'creatures' you hunt is behind the disappearances."

"This stuff is real," said Sam, "We've been doing this all our lives. Believe it or not, all of the fairy tales and myths you've ever heard about are true, and we need your help to figure out what's going on here."

"What happened to them?" asked the man.

"We just told you, we don't know," said Dean.

"No, not the victims, your parents," said the man, "People don't just wake up one morning and say 'You know what I'm going to do for the rest of my life? Hunt ghosts and zombies, and vampires, and rid the world of nasty children's stories'. Something must have happened in your past for you to choose this kind of life, to believe the things you do. Who was it? Your mom or dad? Uncle? Maybe a beloved spouse?"

Sam stared the man down, "Both our parents actually. Mom when we were really young, our dad just recently," his voice lowered to just a whisper, "And my fiancé too. A demon got them."

"So, tragedy strikes. You can't explain what happens logically and it all gets blamed on a 'demon'. Interesting. Almost as interesting as you believing this one to be an angel," he said looking intently at Castiel.

"Sam, I'm really close to punching this guy," said Dean.

"Oh settle down. I'll help you solve your case. This is far more intriguing than I thought it would be," the man said.

"So you'll drop the other case you were working on?" asked Sam.

"I solved that case while you were explaining yourselves," the man said, "A man was murdered hereabouts and the son was implicated in the crime. Based on the evidence it couldn't have been the son though. The other set of footprints at the scene were from a tall limping man, not at all describing the son. Furthermore, the father was struck on the left side of the head. The son is right handed and therefore would have struck on the right side. I talked to the son yesterday and when going to meet his father he overheard two men talking, one of which he heard say 'a rat' before committing the crime. That was the part that was eluding me for a while. Just now I deduced that he wasn't saying a rat, but was finishing a phrase. There's a place in Australia called Ballarat, leading me to the conclusion that the man is from Australia. At the start of the case I had learned that the father was blackmailing a man from Australia, but wrote it off since he is now living in America. The only conclusion I am left with is that the man from Australia is now here in America, and must have done the killing."

Sam and Dean just stared blank faced. The man went to the phone, and dialed a number. After a few short seconds he said into the phone, "I have your killer: John Turner," then hung up the phone before whoever it was on the other end had a chance to inquire how he had come to the conclusion. "Now, shall we get going?" said the man, turning to face Sam, Dean, and Castiel.

"Who are you?" asked Sam.

"Holmes," said the man, "Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
